


From the Shadows

by Fenchurch87



Series: The Way of the Warden [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Battle, Character Death, Darkspawn, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 09:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15660039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenchurch87/pseuds/Fenchurch87
Summary: A darkspawn attack forces Zevran to start to come to terms with his feelings for Rhodri Mahariel. A companion piece to The Darkness Within. Originally written in response to a writing prompt on /r/dragonage.





	From the Shadows

“Zev?”

Zevran opened his eyes and smiled at the man who lay in his arms. “Mmm?”

“How is your hair so soft?” Rhodri reached out to take a lock of hair, twirling it gently between his fingers. “What do you do to it?”

Zevran allowed a teasing note to enter his voice. “That is a closely guarded Crows secret,” he replied with a laugh. “I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you. And that would be a terrible shame, my Red Wolf,” he added in a more seductive tone. “Especially when there are so many more... pleasant things I could be doing to you.”

One of Rhodri's eyebrows quirked upwards. “Oh really?” he asked with a slight smirk. “What sort of things?”

Zevran had to force back another laugh. His Red Wolf was doing his best to sound indifferent, but the spark of desire that had suddenly appeared in his eyes gave everything away. _You have much to learn about subterfuge, mi amor_ , he thought. _Wait. Mi amor?_ Where had that come from? He brushed the question aside, to think about later, and returned his attention to the handsome elf beside him.

“Let me show you,” he murmured, pushing Rhodri on to his back and touching his lips with his own, softly at first, but then with more urgency as Rhodri wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. Zevran let his hands move lower–

Rhodri sat up with a gasp. “What is it?” Zevran asked, as his lover scrambled out of the blankets and started pulling on his clothes.

“Darkspawn are coming. I can feel them.” Rhodri tossed his chestplate on, not bothering to lace it up, and reached for his daggers.

Zevran cursed and quickly threw on his own armour, before following Rhodri out of the tent.

“Darkspawn!” Rhodri ran towards the forest that bordered their camp, shouting the alarm. Solona and Alistair were the first to appear, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they stepped out of their tent, but they were soon running after Rhodri and shouting their own warnings.

A piercing scream filled the air, and Zevran's daggers appeared in his hands. _Let the dance begin._ A shriek swiped at him, and he dived to the side, thrusting his blade under the creature's ribs. The twisted thing fell, its black blood staining the ground. Zevran pulled his dagger free, paused briefly to wipe it on the grass, and then spun towards another shriek, his blade seeking the darkspawn's heart.

He felt alive. The music of the battlefield thrummed in his ears, and he moved to its tune. His friends danced alongside him. Alistair, brave and dependable, knocking a shriek to the ground with his shield. Sten, disciplined and deadly, carving a path through the darkspawn with his sword. Oghren, wild and unpredictable, yelling curses as his axe took off a creature's head. And Rhodri–

Rhodri danced with skill and grace, spinning to his right and driving a dagger into the nearest shriek's chest, before parrying a swipe from another. He prepared a counter-strike, his blades flashing in the darkness, so quick–

But not quick enough. Zevran's dagger found its way into the creature's back before Rhodri could attack. They exchanged a brief smile as Zevran withdrew his dagger, and then they parted, the song of war sending them to opposite sides of the battlefield.

“Is everyone alright?” Wynne appeared as the last shriek fell, her hands already surrounded by the blue glow of healing magic. Zevran looked for Rhodri, and was surprised to see him chasing a shadowy figure into the forest. He considered for a moment, and then followed.

Rhodri soon caught up with the strange figure. Zevran positioned himself behind a tree and watched. They talked for a while, too quietly for him to hear, but then the creature lashed out. Rhodri ducked, and a second later the creature was lying on the ground, one of Rhodri's daggers embedded in its chest. Rhodri collapsed to his knees next to the body, and Zevran abandoned his hiding place.

He knelt beside Rhodri and placed an arm around his trembling shoulders. The other man looked at him, his face drained of colour and tears filling his eyes. “Tamlen,” he whispered, in between gasps for breath. “I killed Tamlen.”

Zevran heard hurrying footsteps behind him, and then the sound of worried voices as everyone else caught up.

“Get him into the tent.” Wynne took charge, her Senior Enchanter voice breaking through the confusion.

Zevran took hold of Rhodri's shoulders and helped him to his feet as gently as he could. He wrapped one arm around his lover's waist, holding him upright as he led him back towards the camp. His other hand found Rhodri's and clasped it tightly. “Come now, my Red Wolf,” he murmured. “It will be alright. You will be alright.”

Wynne was already waiting beside the tent. She moved to Rhodri's other side, and between them they guided the sick elf inside and laid him down on the blankets.

“Thank you.” The blue light appeared around Wynne's hands again. “You may leave now, if you like.”

“I would prefer to stay.”

Wynne nodded. “Very well.” She laid her hands on Rhodri's chest, and the healing magic swirled around her.

Something was wrong. Zevran could see it in the way Wynne frowned, in the way she shook her head and sighed as the blue glow winked out.

“What is the matter?”

“The taint is growing stronger.” A thin layer of sweat covered Wynne's forehead, and her voice was weary. “It is starting to spread, and I cannot keep it at bay any longer. We must pray that Solona's plan works.” The healer paused on her way out of the tent and looked at him, a hint of sympathy in her shrewd blue eyes.

Zevran lay down next to Rhodri. His Red Wolf was sleeping now, his body doing its best to recover from the night's events. He gently stroked his hair, soft waves of burnished copper that had partially inspired the nickname.

But it was another nickname that suddenly appeared on his tongue, unbidden, a nickname that he dare not speak out loud. He was afraid of it, afraid of what it meant. He tried to push it away, to banish it from his mind, but still it remained, lurking in the darkest shadows of his thoughts.

_Mi amor._

 


End file.
